Career Match
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: After Wrestlemania 34, Stephanie's finally found the match that she's always wanted. Paul's just found the new match to rib her about. - Post-mania one-shot.


"So are you ready to admit it yet? Or what?'

"Or what?" Paul grumbled against the fabric of his pillow as he skewed his eyes shut and prayed for some ounce of sleep. Any. "Steph?"

"That you're washed up and too old now to preform."

That got his head up. Sending a glare the woman's way, he griped, "Come the fuck again?"

"I carried you, babe," she told him simply as she grinned over at him from where she was by their suitcases, pulling out something to put on for bed that night. Steph was still all hyped up. Lucky her. "Seriously. You looked like an amateur out there."

He glared over at her a bit before falling back into bed. Still, he got out, "You shouldda had them check your head instead of your arm, Stephie. Think something's loose up there."

"Imagine being graced with a match with me at 'mania. It's the final cherry on top of your career, huh?"

"All I ever wanted. Working with you. Best night of my life."

"I think I should have an asterisk placed by this match. So everyone knows how handicapped I was by you."

"Hey, Stephanie?"

"Mmmm?"

"Shut the fuck up."

She only giggled too as she came to crawl in bed, finally, after having changed for the night. They were in the same suite as their children and had to be quiet, less risking them coming to join them in their room. And neither wanted that.

"You looked, like, so hot though, out there in the ring," she told him as she settled in beside him. "I'll give you that."

"Is that what you'll give me?"

"The only thing."

"Is the implication that I don't always look good out there?" And he didn't want to, but he went ahead and turned over, just for her. "Because I refute that."

"You have to admit there's some days when you're looking a little rough."

"You're talking to your king, you know."

She was giggling again, Stephanie was, as she pushed up a bit on her knees. Staring down at him, she moved to rest her palms gently against his chest as she said, "I think you've been dethroned."

He only blinked sleepily up at the woman as he remarked, "But not by you."

"Never by me."

"I- Ooh, Steph, not there."

"What?" She'd pressed down slightly over one of his bruises and he only groaned in response, getting her to pull back some. "Are you alright?"

"Just sore, s'all. Nothing to worry about." Letting out a long, soft breath, he whispered, "How about you?"

"I'm okay."

"Are not."

"Am so." She was sinking down then, to rest against him, and he liked this much better. "I was already all bruised and beat up from training. Nothing new."

"Liar."

"How do you know?"

But he didn't answer as he only took to wrapping one of his arms around her, keeping the woman held to his chest then. Instead, he said, "It was a great show though, don't you think?"

"I was blinded by my self-centered nature, actually, so I have no idea."

"Well, your only accomplishment in the wrestling world was that match," he agreed with a nod. "Everything else-"

"I had a super long title run."

" _Everything else-"_

"I also married you," she pointed out. "I think that turned out for the better."

"Well after all those dark years of me abusing the system-"

"I mean, you did it anyways, so why not be more direct about it?"

Nodding his head, he said, "I also got a pretty big benefit out of it."

"What's that?"

"Literal benefits. From working in the office now." Then he made a face. "Oh, no, you didn't think I was talking about you, did ya?"

"Not all, nope."

"Nope?"

"Nope."

They were too tired, probably, because for some reason the way she said that word was funny to him and the way he was mimicking it was great for her too and they were both laughing and man, they needed sleep.

Had he finally reached his peak sleep deprivation?

Paul was pretty certain.

Steph though probably just had too much to drink during all the celebratory post-mania highs…

It was usually easier for him to rationalize his wife as drunk than finding him truly that funny, interesting, entertaining, ect.

To truly understand the deep scope of things she saw him as would be far too much of a mind fuck, even for someone as conceited as himself, Paul had long decided.

He stopped chuckling first though, blinking tiredly as he tried to keep his eyes opened. Softly, he said, "I dunno how much longer I can stay awake, Steph."

"Me neither," she sighed as she nuzzled her face against the flesh of his chest. "We only got a couple of hours before we gotta get up."

"I'll be glad when I get back to a normal schedule." He made a bit of a face at his own words. "My normal schedule."

She slipped off him some then, Stephanie did, and back to her own side of the bed as she considered the fact that though 'mania was now done for her and her hard work had all come to fruition, but her husband wasn't so lucky. Paul still had to be in fighting shape for Saudi by the end of the month. He was basically asking her to just let him go to sleep, she was nearly certain, and to stop bothering him probably.

Well, actually he wasn't, but it really came off that way to Stephanie in those moments.

But as she shifted away, he only frowned and turned on his side, scooting right after her.

"Paul-"

"Were you not comfortable? I was."

"I'm definitely not now," she complained as he rested his head in the nape of her neck. "And neither you are."

"This is great. Best for sleeping."

"You keep scratching my leg with your toenail."

"Fucking McMahons. You always find something to bitch about."

"I'm a Levesque, thanks."

He let out a short huff. "You're welcome."

"Paul?"

"What?"

"Go to sleep."

"I wanna," he assured her as, finally, he moved to fall onto his back and they were on their own sides of their bed for the past few days. "Just can't."

"Still imagining the greatest night of your career?"

"All I ever wanted," he told her then and it sounded as true as it sounded hollow and put on purely for their amusement in that moment. "I love working with you. And in the ring? The greatest."

"Shut up."

"You shuddup," he slurred as both eyes slipped shut. "My entire career was leading to this, Stephanie. The beginning, all the suffering, finding my own footing, only to fuck it all up by getting with you."

"Hey-"

"I'm not done." He peeked a single eye open just to look over at her, but still managed to make it feel like a glare. Somehow. He was so great with expressions. "So there I am, fucking you."

"Paul-"

"Fucking up by fucking you. Was that it?" He even yawned for effect (well, she thought effect, he yawned because it was so fucking late). "Anyhow, there's some fucking and fucking up going on. Get over that hump, have some great matches. But something's missing. What's missing, Steph?"

"You missed a good joke with the word hump, I think."

"I'm not a savage, Steph."

"Anyways-"

"Anyways, the thing that's missing is us, you know? Greatest reign of my career, probably. Best faction I was with. When it was me and you at the helm. Most fun I had. Definitely not a better period in my career. Nope. None at all."

"Do you ever try not hurting my feelings by lying so openly? Or do you just have to power through for the big finish?"

"So when that goes away, what was missing from it? Huh? What big thing was missing? I search and search. For over a decade now. Have matches, sanction matches, everything in between. But I just can't find that high. What's missing? And then it hits me. Well, I hit you, accidentally, into a table, after having you come out during my entrances only to fuck things up for me in the end."

"You're not funny."

"I'm very funny, Stephanie, if you would just, uh, shut the fuck up and let me be."

"I'm trying, but you're taking so long-"

"I never got that big moment, with you, at Wrestlmania. Together. Taggin' it up," he said louder then, to drown her out. He knew they couldn't get much louder, less they risked ruining the whole thing and having a kid kicking at them in their sleep. "Only for you to fuck it up. Like you always do. And ruin everything for me. Thus completing my journey. Fucking you fucks me up and ruins my legacy. Tale as old as time."

"Are you done yet?"

"Well, I never did work in a hump joke-"

"You're such a jerk."

"I love you, Stephie," he told her then with a smile. "Everything about you, mostly, probably. But I really love the way that you're, you know, so into your work. And put it all on the line for it. You'll give up everything for this company. That's why you went into the ring, when the most people ever would be watching. That's why you trained with me all those late nights and got ready for this. I love seeing you in your element. I love it. It was the best part of this week. One of the matches that will mean everything when I'm all done with it."

She knew he wasn't telling the truth. Well, about the final part. He probably meant most of the other stuff. The match was actually more of a stress on him than it was worth, maybe. Weighed with the publicity Ronda's debut and lead up to it, maybe not. But still, he'd been miserable for the past few months, if not more, dealing with the whole thing.

2018 had been kind of a whirlwind so far, as it typically was, but them being in a match together had heightened that. She knew that her nerves had made him try very seriously to help her prepare, while also having to worry about Ronda being ready for a new style of entertainment and Kurt stepping into the business in such a way once more. His more recent matches, he was the most veteran, fine, but he wasn't relied on completely to lead anything. He was working with great talent. Their match was completely different.

Then you had to add in all the other things that were going on currently. It was a constant nightmare, really, being in such positions of power over any company, probably, but Stephanie felt like like theirs most of all was stressful. It was such an idiotic seeming business that it could easily misjudged, but it was actually far from it.

Paul had been especially working himself to death recently.

More often than not he'd been getting short with people, even around their home. Her in particular. She knew she was annoying in a typical sense and he had to put up with her nonsense far too much, but he just seemed out of patience recently. She didn't blame him. She was tense too. When he got that way though, it just seemed far more noticeable.

She wanted those dark circles under his eyes to go away. For him to get more than three hours of sleep on a bad day and four on a good. She wanted him to just have some time to chill out for a bit and reflect. Rest.

Post-mania, she was there. But he still had a bit more to go before he had a chance to.

Still, Stephanie found that she couldn't hate all the stress he'd been put through completely. Because while she could probably rank every single match he'd been in, from his perspective, in a complete, ignorantly long and tedious list (though she wasn't sure if that spoke more to her nature or his) and knew his most recent with her probably didn't even crack the top 200, but for her much shorter career of, oh, 25 matches, it was by far the most important to her.

By far.

But it was late. And it didn't matter how many times she tried to explain to him what it all meant to her, the entire day, she'd never be able to do it properly. Especially not with how tired she was (or tipsy because, fine, she was some of that too). She was pretty sure he knew, anyways. The only reason he was trying to tell her was because he always thought that she didn't. That she couldn't understand that he felt just as close to her as she felt to him.

And really, she couldn't.

The deeper sides of her love for him were much more visual and physical than what he held for her. It didn't mean it wasn't there. It just meant that sometimes it was harder to show without knowing, quite well, both his behavior around and without her.

No one loved her more than him and sometimes he felt the need to remind her of that fact.

She, in turn, reminded that of him so constantly that to do more of it in that moment would only needlessly keep them both up.

So she didn't.

Instead she only shut her own eyes and whispered, "I love you too, Paul."

"I know." He even grinned a bit. "Steph."

When they'd wake up in the morning, the real morning, they'd have a lot to deal with. The fallout for both brands would begin to take shape and their minds shifted straight into building for the following year. There was no off season. There wasn't allowed to be.

But when he rested his arm next to hers on the bed, Stephanie grinned as well and the night felt perfect.

It couldn't have been, of course. Every Wrestlemania had its faults and fumbles. Every Takeover. Every RAW. Every Smackdown. Everything always, in all facets of life.

Neither could think of any other way they'd have wanted their night to go though. At all.

* * *

 **So I was actually interested and checked to see just how many matches Triple H, as, you know, the entity of Triple H, and it turns out he has had 819. I dunno if that's exactly what I thought it would be or slightly less than what I thought. I was actually interested for a second in this until I checked Edge's and found that he finished with 812 and it made me immensely sad and I abandoned the interest forever.**

 **Anyways, I never got around to what they did after Wrestlemania this year, so here. It's not much, but it's something. And that's what counts, right?**


End file.
